


Seventh-Inning Stretch

by neversaydie



Series: Steve and Bucky are Fucking Weird (aka Sam Needs Better Friends: A Series) [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Baseball, Bucky and Steve have No Boundaries, Hair-pulling, Haircuts, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sam Wilson is So Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is torn about cutting his hair. He wants to cut ties with Soldier, but at the same time he just loves the way Steve pulls his hair when they fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seventh-Inning Stretch

**Author's Note:**

> originally for a prompt at my tumblr @saferforeveryone

“You can still pull my hair at this length.” Bucky holds up a chunk of hair with his fingers pinched a few inches from his scalp for measurement. “Right, Stevie?”

Steve looks up from the baseball game he’s currently engrossed in to asses the hair situation. Bucky doesn’t give a shit about sports anymore, unfortunately, but Sam will watch with him. Unfortunately for Sam, that means he gets a front row seat to the Trauma Twins’ _stunning_ lack of normal boundaries and behaviour.

“Yeah, probably.” He nods, having thought about it carefully. Sam hates his friends.

“Is it long enough for a handle, though?” Bucky presses, concerned. Sam buries his face in his hands on the other couch, because _why_ , why do they have no boundaries? 

“Eh, give it another inch.” Steve nods again, distracted by the game and turning back around. “Hey, will you grab us some chips?”

“Fuck you. Get your own chips, I’m busy.” Bucky snorts, disappearing into the bathroom with what looks suspiciously like a worryingly-large pair of kitchen scissors. He calls over his shoulder before he shuts the door. “I’m gonna want to try this hair out pretty soon, there a half time coming up or something?”

“Seventh-inning stretch.” Steve calls back. Casually arranging quickie kinky sex. Great. Right on the list of things Sam needed to witness. 

“That’ll do.” Bucky agrees, then locks the door to hack off most of his hair. To a yankable length, apparently.

“I hate you both.” Sam groans into his fingers, because _that_ image isn’t going away any time soon. “So much.”


End file.
